Everybody's a Suspect
by Lilac Papillon
Summary: - The Usual Suspects, AU - In a world full of lies and deceit, you never know who Keyser Soze really is until you feel the knife dig deep into your back. Even then, would you have the time to turn around to look at his face?
1. Truth of Lies

**Title: **Everybody's a Suspect  
**Movie: **_The Usual Suspects.  
_**Rating: **PG-13 to T, rated for cursing  
**Word Count: **1,395 words  
**Summary: **In a world full of lies and deceit, you never know who Keyser Soze really is until you feel the knife dig deep into your back. Even then, would you have the time to turn around to look at his face?  
**Warnings/Spoilers: **...are you kidding me? If you basically never saw it, hit the Back button right now because I will be _very _upset if you read this without watching that.  
**Disclaimer: **_The Usual Suspects _does not belong to me. If it did, hell, I wouldn't be trying to figure out all of its damn plotholes.  
**Notes: **So I was three years old when _The Usual Suspects _came out in freaking 1995, and it was twelve years later I bore witness to it present day 2008. And it is _so great_, I don't care how long it's been, I'm paying tribute.

This is a "what if" fanfic, more specifically: what if Keyser Soze wasn't who he turned out to be? A couple of AU's depicting how it would all go down if it was actually other people in Soze's shoes.

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**Summary:** _Brief recap of the ending. Telling the truth is just the right thing to do. Telling a lie is just easier, though._

_**- Truth of Lies - **_

_Keaton was Keyser Soze._

Those four words. Those four goddamn words were the only words that reverberated harshly in Roger Kint's ears; in his mind, in his gut. David Kujan, who had said these four words, knew this. He knew it very well, and he knew Roger alias Verbal would too. The U.S. Customs Agent made sure that each word that came out of his mouth would drill into Verbal's skull, even if it would further cripple this criminal that was laid out hapless in front of him.

Each explanation that Kujan gave shoved Verbal to admit defeat – the way Keaton had been and how he would never change – how Keaton could easily have calculated these events tied together so smoothly and to his will – how he could have killed his lover, Edie Finneran, with two bullets in her head, in a Pennsylvanian hotel.

From the tortured look in Verbal's brown eyes, he knew it was all sinking in deeply. "What do you think about Keaton now?" Agent Kujan asked, his hostile, angry tone dropping coldly.

All Verbal could do was stare back, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. "Edie?" he finally managed to stutter.

"He used all of you to get on that boat. He couldn't get on alone."

"This is all bullshit!" Verbal had cried out, in an effort to stop him. The effort was futile, though; Verbal knew it just as much as Kujan as the officer continued on, his words scathing and painful. Everybody who knew Kujan – Kujan himself knew how to make even the toughest of spirits crack and break down.

It was a dirty job, sure, but usually the truth was far dirtier. The truth would also hurt more. It was Kujan's job to make sure that the lies Verbal Kint had been told would be crushed. These lies have taken advantage of this man. This man – this disabled man who was nothing more than a small-time con artist – out of those other three criminals, this man had been played the most by Keyser Soze.

Because he was a cripple.

Because he was stupid.

Because he was weaker than Keyser Soze.

And finally, Verbal raised the white flag. The hit on the New York Taxi Service had been ex-cop Dean Keaton's idea from the start. They had followed Keaton, right into Keyser's hands, just where he had wanted them.

Kujan took a deep breath, and looked up at Verbal, who was looking back at him with glossy, puffy eyes. "You think he's..." Verbal choked, completely crushed. He was calling out for something – any reinforcement that had been left or missed, perhaps, just to help him stand. Something he could hold onto, even if it was only one shred.

The dark-haired agent fixed his glance back on Verbal. There was nothing left, and Verbal had already accepted defeat. Why give him that one shred? "Keyser Soze? I don't know," he finally responded, his tone collected after the ordeal. "Keyser Soze's a shield – or like you said, a spook story." His gaze hardened again. "But I know Keaton, and someone is out there pulling strings for you. Stay here and let us protect you."

"I'm not bait," Verbal retorted. "I post today."

"You posted twenty minutes ago. Captain Leo wants you out of here. Unless you turn state's – "

"I'll take my chances, thank you," was the blubber of the response that interrupted him.

"If someone wants to get you, they're gonna get you out there," Kujan replied firmly, his tone rising again. "Turn state's evidence. You might never get trial."

"Maybe so," Verbal practically spat. And he gave Kujan the only ounce of pride he had left. "But I'm not a rat."

It was a victory, sure, but it was not complete until one more thing was done. Kujan watched, sullenly, as he watched Verbal stand up, and limp towards the door, his back turned against the agent's. As he watched him step outside, he saw him turn, and look at him straight in the eyes.

A fierce glare, burning with hatred, swearing for revenge. Kujan was far too familiar with this glare, and he simply looked back, neither apologetically nor insensitively.

"Fuckin' cops," Verbal finally sobbed, then stepped away and disappeared, just as Jeff Rabin walked back inside the office, casting a glance over his shoulder. He looked up to see Kujan sitting on the edge of his desk, his coffee mug in hand, looking at the wall of papers and information pegged to its board.

Rabin shook his head as he took a seat as his desk, scooping up a number of papers and stacking them together. "We still got nothing," he sighed.

"I know what I wanted to know about Keaton," the other man responded.

"Which is nothing."

Kujan seemed to shrug, as though he was still content with this. Of course it meant nothing to Rabin; he wouldn't understand what Keaton meant to him. Victory was almost his, anyway. It was only a matter of time...

He took a drink of his coffee and swallowed. "No matter. He'll have to know how close we came."

Rabin paused from organizing his paperwork, and looked up at Kujan. "Keyser Soze or no Keyser Soze, if Keaton is alive, he's not coming up again."

"I'll find him."

"Waste of time."

And as if to strengthen his earlier opinion, Kujan murmured under his breath, "A rumor's not a rumor that doesn't die."

"What?"

He would not understand anyway. "Nothing," Kujan said, with a small shake of his head. The man shifted back into his original position and looked back at the pegboard. He brought the coffee mug up to his lips, preparing to take another drink.

"Hey, is this yours?"

Kujan stopped and lowered his mug as he turned his head to look at the object Rabin held between his thumb and forefinger. The watch glinted from the peaks of sunlight that seeped through the slits of the blinds from outside. "Just exactly how many carats is this thing?" Rabin murmured incredulously as he observed the gold metal.

At that moment, there was a loud explosion, a direct and short one. Rabin jumped and Kujan nearly dropped his mug as the two men jerked back, startled. "Holy shit!" Rabin exclaimed as he bolted up from his chair immediately, hastily walking outside as Kujan placed down his mug and went to follow.

He stopped short when Detective Jack Baer bumped into him and continued running outside the detective agency. Kujan blinked and looked towards the door. Many of the personnel were crowning near the door or going outside to find out where the source of the gunshot had been and who had been shot.

They wouldn't find him, though. He knew that the man responsible for it could easily be driving up to somebody in a limousine, shoot that person in broad daylight, and somehow get away with it scot-free and unnoticed.

He then turned his attention to the sheet of paper that crawled out of the fax machine. He grabbed the sheet out and looked at the picture before him. His gaze narrowed almost immediately, before he shook his head grimly, and swiftly tore the paper in half. He made a mental note to visit those doctors and that Hungarian who, if he wasn't dead now, he would be very soon.

He crumpled both parts into his hand and stuffed it into his left pocket. When his hand emerged, there was a box of cigarettes in it. Kujan took one out to place in his mouth, and as he pocketed the box, he placed his other hand into his right pocket.

He pulled out a lighter as gold as his watch, flipped it open, and brought the flame to the stick. As it burned and smoke trailed from it in complicated trails and wisps, Kujan nodded to himself, seemingly pleased by this turn of events.

The truth would always hurt more. But in order to replace lies, it doesn't mean you always have to tell the truth. It only matters if you win, and he had beaten them all: from his greatest acquaintance Dean Keaton, to the clever yet naïve Verbal Kint. All of them have been put out.

He snapped the lid of the lighter shut, and the flame vanished as Keyser Soze smiled malevolently.

_The greatest trick indeed. Victory was his._

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_**Feedback such as comments, criticisms, and even pointing out the plotholes that get in the way of said person being Keyser Soze appreciated.**_


	2. If It Was a Snake

**Title:** Everybody's a Suspect  
**Movie:** _The Usual Suspects.  
_**Rating:** PG-13 to T, rated for cursing  
**Word Count:** 391 words  
**Summary:** In a world full of lies and deceit, you never know who Keyser Soze really is until you feel the knife dig deep into your back. Even then, would you have the time to turn around to look at his face?  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** Read first page.  
**Disclaimer:** _The Usual Suspects _does not belong to me.  
**Notes:** Another update since I remembered this. This time, we go with a second obvious choice.

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**Summary: **_He should have known. He really, really should have known._

_**- If It Was a Snake -**_

_Sometimes, you don't notice what's in front of you_…

A pack of matches were ignited in the foggy darkness of the night. Dean Keaton sighed as he used it to ignite what would be his final cigarette. If he lived, it would still be his final cigarette, as he swore to quit smoking forever and live the rest of his life well.

Hockney didn't survive, and Fenster had been taken out before he had seen any action. As for Verbal and McManus, they most likely have been taken too; he had seen McManus' gun stained in blood near the edge of the water, and it was in fact, lying right to his right.

It was that gun that had stolen his attention away from a gunshot square to his spine.

It was then that he began to reflect on things that he wanted to do with his life if he lived through this ordeal; live an honest man, change his name, propose to Edie, maybe elope with her. The idea of having children was something he never considered, but he knew it was pointless especially when Edie disapproved strongly of the idea of children.

Keaton banished the thoughts from his head as he heard slow, tedious footsteps approaching him. Then, a lighter being flicked open, and closed again. A puff of smoke had been taken, and then a familiar voice spoke:

"How you doin', Keaton?"

The man looked up, and Keaton froze. Every part of his body became numb, and his eyes widened. Oh, God, he was an idiot – a big, _big_ idiot. How could he not have known? It was obvious from the start that something was very wrong with _him, _and he completely overlooked it when he sympathized with this man. From the start, he was sly, untrustworthy…perfect for Keyser Soze. The only man to kill his own partner, to challenge Keaton constantly by insulting Edie and his pride, the man to lead them all into an easy trap, and let them fall to the trap, hook, line and sinker…

There was no hope of any future; not now, and not any time soon, especially with this man. "I can't feel my legs…_Keyser,"_ Keaton scowled, and glared up at the bright, dangerous blue eyes of the fedora-tipped man. He sighed, and let the cigarette fall out of his mouth. Might as well quit now. "I should have known. I really, _really_ should have known."

He saw Keyser Soze smirk, and nod his head slowly, as though acknowledging Keaton's fatal mistake. Then Keyser shrugged, gun still pointed at Keaton's head.

"You won't need them anyway," McManus responded with a cold smile.

_Until it notices you._

He fired.

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_**Feedback such as comments, criticisms, and even pointing out the plotholes that get in the way of said person being Keyser Soze appreciated.**_


End file.
